


Dark in My Imagination

by IcecreamNinja



Category: SHINee
Genre: (some edits/ additions made after posting), Alcohol, Angst, Chaos, Clueless Taemin, DxDxD era, Enabler Jonghyun :D, I apologise, Infatuation, Jjong is hype, Longing, M/M, SHINee - Freeform, SHINee is allowed to party in this one, Sexual Tension, Yearning, also pining, from work to fun to angst, long-suffering Kibum, minkey, “Personal space? What’s personal space?”-MinKey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-02 20:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18818215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcecreamNinja/pseuds/IcecreamNinja
Summary: "...over the last few weeks something had…spilled over. That was the only way Kibum could describe it: it was as if his restraint were a finite vessel that had, after years of carefulness, finally reached its limit."





	1. Looking for an Exit (出口探してる)

**Author's Note:**

> ~Chapter titles are lyrics taken from DxDxD and other artists' tracks  
> ~Please look out for song links to YouTube in the text - these tracks inspired me/ formed a big part of the atmosphere when I wrote this fic! ^^

It’d been the usual comeback cycle: meet, rehearse, sweat, record, go to fittings, diet, eat, sleep, rehearse…

Not that he minded, really. Kibum loved his job and he loved his members (even when they drove him crazy), but his patience was waring very thin regarding a certain tall, athletic individual with an annoyingly fitting moniker: The Flaming Charisma. It was fitting because this comeback, this time, Key wasn’t sure he could hold his yearning in check any more - all thanks to the heated intensity (as Key saw it) of just about EVERYTHING Minho did in the new mv they were shooting.

It was a darker, grown-up concept this time, full of powerful choreography and masculine tailoring. He watched, riveted, from behind the production team as they filmed Minho serving looks and miming his part to the thrumming track of DxDxD that echoed around the studio. Vaguely, Kibum was aware of Jinki and Taemin chatting somewhere in the background; of Jjong teasing a stylist over something silly. But he wasn’t paying any attention to what they were actually saying because his eyes were _fixed_ on Minho.

Only Minho. Key watched as he strode towards the camera in a choreographed moment of glory, ripping open the front of his black button-down. Doubtlessly a move designed to drive the fans wild. Kibum huffed, of course it would. It always did. Immediately after completing the shot Minho grinned, feigning modesty and covering his muscular chest to a chorus of chuckles from the production team.Oh, but that was classic Minho, wasn’t it? All smoldering intensity flipped quickly into boyish charm. As if he’d heard Key’s thoughts, Minho’s eyes flickered to his, catching Kibum’s focus on just how Minho played his scene—

Kibum’s heart skipped a beat.

He wanted him.

So badly it made his bones ache and his chest clench.

[God, he wanted him.](https://youtu.be/cWfELCjFK3A)

It had got to the point now where even the most innocuous, stupid things Minho did drove Key to distraction. Things that used to just irritate him now riled him up in other ways. Kibum’s eyes seemed to always involuntarily move to Minho, to hungrily trace the contour of those curved lips or perfect proportions; his fingers itching to touch him whenever he was near.

Up until recently he’d been pretty successful at hiding this desire for something more with Min (despite minor mistakes and tells - and those were easily chalked up to "industry skin-ship"). But over the last few weeks something had…spilled over. That was the only way Kibum could describe it: it was as if his restraint were a finite vessel that had, after years of carefulness, finally reached its limit. It had been a hell of a year for Kibum regarding the usually-in-check feelings he carried for one of his best friends. 

First of all, Minho had honed his already athletic physique to a point of utter irresistibility: VIEW promos and their fourth SHINee World concerts had been harsh exercises in sexual sublimation for Kibum as he watched Minho flex, body-roll and flirt his way through 2015.

Then there had been the dates. Minho was by no stretch of the imagination a promiscuous man, but Kibum knew he'd lowkey taken girls out from time to time (it'd be bizarre if someone as desirable as Minho didn't date, to be honest) - but over the last few months Minho had been out overnight a _lot_. Kibum had pointedly never asked what he'd been doing, or...who; in fact he'd deliberately avoided the topic altogether and, ever the gentleman, Minho never brought it up with Kibum either. Which was actually strange because they normally talked about everything together. Everything.

So _then_ Kibum started to become paranoid that Minho was skirting the issue because he KNEW Kibum had fallen for him. Out of abject fear he distanced himself, terrified of being seen as that most pitiable of stereotypes: the gay man in love with his straight best friend. The very *idea* of being pigeonholed this way set his teeth on edge. And Minho was totally straight.

Right? 

Kibum had determined this..fact.. a long time ago.

Minho was also strictly off limits.

Dropping him wholesale into the “Straight Box” was a no-brainier if he was going to manage himself. Besides, even if Min seemed much more flirtatious around guys than girls it didn’t really mean anything...

” _Minho-ssi, who is your dream girl?”_

_”...my members like older women. I only like the girl of my dreams”_

No. It didn’t mean a thing. 

Min was just an industry skin-ship pro, that’s all. A master.

In his darker moments, Kibum was a little resentful of how he’d changed to accommodate his pining heart. He knew that his gradually increasing coldness was a form of self-preservation, but he also knew he was being a bit selfish. After all, it wasn’t Minho’s fault that Key adored him this way.

He wished he could give it up, this feeling. He even wished at times he’d never met Minho. But his heart had harboured it so long that this pain felt like an integral part of his identity. How sad. 

And now, after so long living like this, he was getting sloppy. His yearning getting worse.

The strain of hiding (for goodness sakes, he’d been hiding for over eight years!) was taking its toll. He wasn’t sleeping much. He wasn’t concentrating as he should. All this, alongside the easy familiarity he’d developed with the spotlight had bred in him a measure of dangerous lassitude. He was scared. Scared that, after all this time he’d finally slip up too greatly, too often, and be exposed to EVERYONE for what he truly was: a man hopelessly in love with Choi Minho.

“Ok that’s it for tonight, guys! Get changed and get some rest! We’ll see you back on set tomorrow by six. Thank you!”

Kibum was shaken from his racing thoughts by the manager’s announcement, and walked quickly away to the dressing room to change. 

His aim was to get there first, get changed and get out. He needed to take a long hot shower (some release with the images his infatuated mind would conjure under the pounding water included), to eat some (healthy) food, and go to bed. That was the plan he formulated as he changed in a flash and scurried out the fire exit and toward his ride home.

Much to Kibum’s dismay, however, there was a van waiting tonight instead of a car - which meant he’d have to share a ride with the others. And “others” meant whoever lived on the same side of town as him. Namely: Jinki and…Minho.As he debated his chances of making a break for the road and getting a taxi instead, the chauffeur got out and opened the door for him. Key sighed and collapsed in the back seat, resigned to his fate of never escaping Minho’s stupid presence in this lifetime.

Fifteen minutes of tapping aimlessly on his phone later, the others emerged from the studio building. All as exhausted as he, of course, but none as grumpy - he was certain about that. At long last Minho and Jinki made their way to the car, Jinki sitting up front in the passenger seat and Minho climbing in next to Key:  soft,mumbled reproaches about “rushing off” filling the air between them as he settled himself an unnecessary inch too close. It was a natural thing. It was their way. But Kibum wasn’t in the mood; he was too fraught and too frustrated for the usual comfort of vague caresses and bickering. Minho seemed to feel this immediately, and stopped talking-

-only to shuffle a little closer to Kibum instead and nudge his leg with his knee.

Despite himself, Key smiled.

 _Just another of Minho’s ways,_ he thought.

“I’ll take Jinki and Minho-ssi home first,” the driver announced, and drove into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from “DxDxD” lyrics by SHINee


	2. A Tempting Affair (誘い込む事件性)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Kibum could feel his neck heating up with the compliment; his better judgement melting with every warm breath of Minho’s voice against his ear.”

Kibum never made it home.

_Fuck the universe, fuck my life and fuck what I want, apparently—_

He’d accompanied Jinki and Minho to their apartment (all hope of unwinding in a hot shower in his own bathroom a lost dream) and was currently stood at their marble kitchen counter helping them prepare the food their housekeeper had left in the fridge. They opened beers and kicked back as the food warmed in the microwave, Key listening mutely to the two of them converse comfortably about the new MV. But Kibum (ordinarily a vocal member of the group when it came to opinions and giving them) spent the whole time trying hard not to watch too intently when Minho swallowed. Or laughed. Or pressed his plush lips to his beer bottle.

And when they began to eat, Key picked at his food. He glanced sidelong at his nemesis, watching blankly as Minho devoured a slice of marinated pork. It really, really shouldn’t have been mesmerising to watch him do the simplest of things, and _yet_ … 

Minho’s eyes shifted to his in a flash.

“Ya, Kibum— if you’re so hungry why not eat what’s in your own bowl instead of looking at mine?”

 _Oh for for the love of.._ Key gulped down his frustration, placing his chopsticks firmly on the table. Why didn’t he just go home? Ah, yes, that was right.

_Jinki._

He’d been so insistent:

_“Oh come on, 'Bum! Come and eat with us. We have meat; it’s delicious; it’s the easiest thing. You can crash at ours, after, too. We’ll just get the car together in the morning and it’ll save time!Forget that boring salad I know you have waiting for you at home.”_

And Minho? Minho had stood there, right behind Jinki, pouting.

Of course Kibum had caved in.

Yes, he was weak. He went with them. But Kibum knew deep down that the reason he agreed so easily wasn’t because he was hungry (ok he was a bit)— but because, against his better judgement, he was longing for proximity to Minho, even though their situation made him tense and angry. He craved the other’s presence like a drug. So he went. And here they were.

“How’s the stew, 'Bummie?” Minho was grinning at him again, piling more rice into his bowl with deft movements. Minho could eat anything and everything and still remain as lean as a race horse.

 _Punk._ “Ya! Enough, Min. You know I’m dieting for the comeback,”

“You’re already so slim, you don’t need to lose any more weight. You always look perfect, anyway.  Eat some more.l!”

“Stop being pushy.”

“I’m sorry,”

He really didn’t sound sorry.

Key looked to Jinki, who was unhelpfully shovelling food in his mouth and checking his emails.

Minho chuckled, “Here, have some of mine— it’s the best cut.“

“Hey!”

After dinner, Jinki stretched, smiled disarmingly and declared that it was in fact Minho’s turn to wash up tonight and yes wouldn’t it be _great_ if Kibum helped with that? So as Jinki disappeared sleepily down the corridor to his room, Kibum’s eyes narrowed at the temerity of their leader in leaving him alone with the six-foot-one-inch bane of his life like this...no matter much he _wanted_ to be alone with him.

With a resigned sigh Kibum joined Minho at the kitchen sink, careful to not touch shoulders as they worked in silence.

Minutes passed.

“What’s with you, lately?”

The question was abrupt, shattering the wordless clatter of cutlery in soapy water.

“What?”

“You heard,”

“I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

Minho smirked, “Nothing?”

“ _You heard._ ”

Minho laughed softly, deep in his chest. THAT laugh: the one that made people’s throats tighten and tummies flip. Kibum winced.

“Just.. hand me a dry dishcloth, yeah? This one’s soaked.”

Minho complied, but not without a curt smile on his lips. God he was annoying. Kibum finished up the last of the drying and glanced at the clock above the TV on the other side of the penthouse.

“It’s only ten. Why does it feel like it's later?”

Minho shoved him, “You’re so grumpy these days, Bummie!” 

 _I wonder whose fault that is,_ Kibum thought sourly, shrugging off Minho’s concerned teasing. 

Like he always did.

That moment, a disheveled yet wide-eyed Jinki reappeared in the kitchen, clutching his cell phone to his ear—

“Yes, yes. Yes, hyung, that’s fine. Don’t worry I’ll tell the others! Thank you!” 

Jinki finished the call and grinned at them like a cheshire cat. Minho moved beside Kibum and slung long arm over his shoulder, making him flinch.

“What’s up?” Minho asked. 

“Amazing news, that’s what! Well - for us anyway: WE HAVE TOMORROW OFF!

Kibum’s jaw dropped in disbelief, “What?!”

Minho whooped as he and Jinki jumped up and down a little bit. 

“Yeah! Apparently the guys coming over from Busan to set up the sprinkler scene tomorrow can’t make it. The plane was grounded - a snowstorm. Soooo.. we have tomorrow off! OFF!”

Kibum and Minho made noises of understanding. The weather had been terrible the last few weeks. This was undoubtedly bad news for the production team, but a blessing and much needed respite for them; it had been a week of incredibly long hours in the studio. 

“I KNOW!” Jinki shouted excitably, “OK, I’m gonna call Taemin. Kibum, will you tell Jjong?”

“Sure, no problem!”

“Ah this is so great,” Jinki muttered as he shuffled to the sofa in his house slippers and collapsed with the phone back at his ear.

“Tae! guess what?! Nope, you’ll never guess so I’ll tell you… no, it’s not on fire, why are you even asking…?”

Kibum stopped listening when he noticed that Minho was heading to the fridge for another beer, a pleased grin plastered on his gorgeous face. Key shook his head and dialed Jonghyun’s number.

Predictably, Jjong was similarly elated.

**_“You’re fucking kidding me?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!”_ **

“Nope!”

" ** _THIS IS AMAZING! Okay,"_** He sounded suddenly grave, **_"I’m gonna say something really important now but I’m not saying it to just you, Key, because you’re a massive killjoy. Is Min there?”_**

Kibum frowned at the totally undeserved rebuke. 

“What the-? Yeah he’s here, but-”

_**“Put me on speaker.”** _

“What-?“

**_“Just..put me on speaker, 'Bummie!”_ **

“Okay, okay.  Jesus. I hate you, by the way.”

He could practically hear the fond smile in Jonghyun’s voice on the other end of the line, _**“Yeah, I hate you too.”**_

Minho took a long swig from his bottle as he leaned against the table, expression amused as he listened to the two of them bicker. Kibum placed his cell on the countertop and switched it to speaker mode.

 ** _“AM I ON SPEAKER NOW?”_** The tinny yet unmistakable noise of a happy Jonghyun filled the kitchen.

“Yes! WHY ARE YOU SHOUTING?” Kibum replied, laughing in spite of himself,

“HI HYUNG!” Minho interjected, sidling up the phone and shaking Key fondly by his shoulder.

 ** _“I’m NOT shouting - just turn your volume down! Hi Min!"_ **Jjong cleared his throat, _ **"Okay, okay..here’s the plan: We’re going OUT, guys.**_  

"What?" 

_**"This is a sign. A snow-day sign...WE. ARE. GOING. OUT!”** _

 Just then Jinki approached from the living area, his phone still plastered to his ear, “Out? Oh, hi Jjong!”

 _ **“Hi Hyung! And yes. Out.”**_ Jjong replied.

“Wait, “ said Jinki, “I’m putting Taemin on speaker—“

 _Oh for crying out lou—_ But Key never had the chance to finish that thought: Taemin’s voice had joined the conference.

_**“HI HYUNGS!”** _

Kibum held his head his hands. Quite honestly, he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.

 **“HI TAE!”** Minho and Jonghyun chorused.

 _ **“So as I was saying,”**_ Jjong continued, ** _“-we should totally go out. The five of us. Like, NOW. We have the whole day off tomorrow and it’s only—“_** a pause, presumably because Jonghyun was checking the time at his end, **_“—ten fifteen! The night is young! *We* are young! And working hard! And we hardly ever go out together any more and oh my god I really need to cut loose,   drink some drinks and dance ’til I drop. So yeah, we’re going out. Right?”_**

“RIGHT!” shouted Minho, his energy clearly as infectious as usual because Jinki and Taemin immediately responded, too:

 **“RIGHT!”**  

Kibum groaned.

A pause. But he pushed on, feeling very judged by the two sets of eyes on him.

“Are you guys kidding me right now?” he expanded, “I’m exhausted. You’re exhausted. We should at least try and rest. Sleep--“

He was absolutely right, of course. This was the responsible, sensible thing to do. For his skin let alone his sanity. The very idea of being in a club with the guys and (god forbid) Minho right now was overwhelming. But Jjong just laughed knowingly through the phone. 

_**“See ‘Bummie? This is why I asked be to put on speaker!”** _

Suddenly a very warm, very firm chest was against his back, and strong arms twining around his middle.

“Kibum,” Minho cajoled, “Jonghyun makes a good argument. Why don’t you just come along, huh? It won’t be any fun without you there. You have loads of clothes here in the spare room, so we can all shower, change and be out of here in half an hour. _C’mon_ ‘Bummie…” 

Kibum could feel his neck heating up with the compliment; his better judgement melting with every warm breath of Minho’s voice against his ear. He glanced up at the sound of Jjong and Taemin cheering Minho on through the cell phones, and Jinki pleading encouragingly.

“This is…a bad idea,” he mumbled noncommittally.

Minho was smiling; Kibum didn’t even have to turn around to know that Minho was smiling ear-to-ear.

“And!” He continued, “you, Choi Minho, are an idiot if you think I can be ready in thirty minutes,” he pulled himself out of Minho’s grasp, “I’ll need at least forty five.”

The sound of SHINee whooping Kibum’s name was so loud that it probably woke the neighbours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from “DxDxD” lyrics by SHINee


	3. Like a Broken Mask (마치 고장 난 마스크 같아)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The room was becoming pleasantly fuzzed with sound and colour and smiles, and through the fog of his bright intoxication Kibum was just gazing, gazing, gazing at Minho’s curving lips and shell-like ear. He felt the press of a long leg against his under the table and the steadying touch of a warm hand on his back when he reached clumsily for his drink."

Freezing rain spattered the taxi as the five of them sped through Seoul to a destination only Jjong knew. They’d left the apartment within an hour of convincing Kibum to join them, and the collective excitement was rising rapidly: finally, a chance to let off some steam!

Kibum dwelt in his thoughts, the chatter of the others a comforting counterpoint to the hammering rain. But as he counted the seconds between rushing street lights a hand folded down upon his own, warming it.

_Minho._

“Why are you always so cold, ‘Bummie?” The question was barely above a whisper.

Kibum’s voice caught in his throat. “I’m not really. You just run hot, you metabolic freak.”

He was thankful that the darkness obscured the flush of his cheek. There was no bite in his words, of course, and a deep chuckle from Minho affirmed their fond reception. He leaned his body forwards to sandwich Kibum’s other hand properly between both of his. The warmth seeped in like sunshine.

Taemin piped up. “Sooo…where are we going, hyung? Aura? Have you reserved a table?”

Taemin seemed oblivious as the others to the storm inside Kibum’s heart as Minho held his hands. Jonghyun flicked off his phone with a little flourish and grinned at Taemin, who was squashed amicably between Minho and Onew in the three-seater.

“Nope. We’re not going to Aura tonight, Tae. Too much dubstep,” he gave a satisfied sigh, “I called Jun before the taxi arrived. We have a booth in The Crimson. VIP- so we can really enjoy ourselves! Tonight is all about techno, deep house and electro-funk—”

Kibum’s lip twitched and he momentarily shifted his attention away from Minho’s fingers to shoot Jjong a withering look.

“You’re such a musical snob, Jjong,” Kibum teased, a glint in his eye.

Minho nodded and kicked Jjong in the shin.

“Ya!”

‘Hey, isn’t that a no-phone club?” Jinki asked, deflecting.

Jjong nodded. “Yeah, but only for non-VIPs. That’s what makes it so great: no cameras, no phones… just _Dance Dance Dance,_ baby _!_ ”

They groaned in unison when Jonghyun actually _sang_ the words. _As if the five of them hadn’t heard that damn chorus enough in the past few weeks,_ Kibum thought dourly.

He sighed, head falling back against the seat behind him when Minho had deemed his hands warm enough to relinquish. He let his gaze wander to the window, watching quietly how the smear of rain on glass distorted the bright city lights. His hand strayed to his mouth and he chewed on a fingernail, wondering vaguely how many others were out there tonight watching the rain fall. As the taxi slowed for a red light, Kibum’s eyes refocused on the window plane to trace the outline of Minho’s face reflected there; Minho also was watching the rain - his expression soft and unreadable in the crystalline glass. Kibum’s breath slowed.

Mirror-dark eyes snapped to his and he immediately averted his gaze, a blush creeping up his neck.

“We’re here!”

 _Oh thank god,_ he thought, scrambling for the door and studiously avoiding the temptation to check Minho’s expression.

Within seconds the five of them were striding over the gleaming sidewalk, bouncers from The Crimson’s back entrance hurrying to meet them with wide black umbrellas.

They were ushered inside the building and down a flight of metallic stairs. Kibum could feel the [heady thrum of deep techno](https://youtu.be/hT-1erhFDNE?t=56) grow stronger in his chest the farther they descended. A frisson anticipation rushed through him. He welcomed the sensation - it was something he'd been lacking since early that evening. 

The large, lofty dance space opened out in front of them. It was filled with writhing bodies and voices vibrating with energy. A huge, glittering chandelier graced the high ceiling of the chamber, reflecting the light into a prismatic spray of color. The music felt like a hypnotic pulse of promise in his heart.

He grinned. Maybe tonight _was_ a good idea, after all.

Jonghyun leaned in to rave about the venue as they were led over the main dance floor and behind the black VIP rope.

“They just put in a brand new sound system! Isn’t it incredible?! Listen to that mid-bass balance!”

Kibum had to smile. “You’re such a nerd, Jjong. Really.”

The VIP antechamber was much like the main dance floor: a plush juxtaposition of old and new design. _Industrial Baroque_ was the term Jonghyun had thrown at them in the back of the cab earlier while trying to explain the “aesthetic goal” of The Crimson - which had fetched more than a few jeers from his philistine members.

Jonghyun had just cackled and welcomed it as a badge of honour.

Regardless of labels, the place was welcoming despite its exclusivity. The staff in the VIP greeted them respectfully and were about to lead them to their booth when—

“Jjong! JONGHYUN! Long time no see, buddy! Whoa, you really did bring SHINee!”

Jjong whirled on his heel and embraced an attractive man of about he same height, dressed casually in jeans and baseball cap.

“Jun-Hyung! Yeah, I meant what I said.. we all really need this night off. Work’s been intense. Here! I think you already know Jinki-hyung-“

Jun and Jinki exchanged nods- they seemed around the same age.

“-and this is Minho, Kibum and Taemin.”

Jun seemed a nice guy. Very charismatic. _Well,_ thought Kibum, _I guess you have to be if you’re the artist procurer for a club like The Crimson._

All he knew was that Jjong and Jun had worked on some remixes and compositions together back before Jun had moved out of production and into club management. All well and good. Fine. But he wasn’t sure he was _quite_ as happy about the way Jun’s eyes seemed to linger a little too appreciatively on Minho when they met. Kibum quickly moved in, proffering his hand enthusiastically:

“SO pleased to meet you, Jun-hyung!” He fixed Jun with a charming smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, ”thank you for setting us up with a table at such short notice.”

“Ah, no worries, man! Anything for Jjongie. He’s an old friend! And any friend of his…“ he grinned at Minho, _quite_ specifically, his gaze playful. “—Besides, you’re SHINee, bro!”

Kibum bristled and his grin tightened icily. “Aha. That’s nice. _Bro._ ”

Not that Kibum could blame him. Minho always looked incredible. And never more so than when he wore form-fitting, ripped black jeans and a button-down. Hell, half the girls and a number of guys had stared openly when he walked in. It always worked that way. Always.

“Hey, let’s get you guys some drinks,” Jun said cheerily, “Dongwook here is your server for the night. He’ll take care of you. Whatever you need. Catch you all later, yeah?”

And with a last hug for Jonghyun, Jun disappeared into the crowd. Minho made for the booth first, followed by the others. For the sake of feeding his apparent masochism, Kibum seated himself next to Minho.

“I don’t like him.”

Minho frowned. “Who? Jun-hyung?”

Kibum just rolled his eyes.

“He seemed really friendly to me,” Minho said.

“Hm. a little too friendly, if you ask me.”

Kibum made a show of thoroughly studying the cocktails menu, but out of the corner of his eye he could see Minho grinning. Thankfully, Dongwook arrived promptly to take their orders.

“A cosmo, please,”

“Watermelon daiquiri,”

“Scotch on the rocks,”

“A Mojito.”

“…Fifteen shots of Tequila and three bottles of soju, please.”

“TAEMINNIE!”

“What? It’s for ALL of us.”

The drinks arrived and immediately they each downed two shots. By the time they reached the third, they were ready for a toast.

“What shall we drink to?” boomed Jonghyun, the alcohol already working in his system, “…Minho?”

Minho pushed the salt on his hand into a neat pile before raising his shot-glass and nodding solemnly:

“Well…here’s to friendship. And SHINee. AND SHITTY WEATHER THAT LETS US GET FUCKED UP HALF-WAY THROUGH SHOOTING!!”

They cheered enthusiastically and drank, Kibum only pausing long enough to lean into Minho’s neck and mumble, “You’re such closet frat boy, Min. What on earth was that??”

“I’m pretty sure that whatever I said, you drank to it. So too late to moan, Kibum, that’s a full endorsement!”

Kibum cackled, leaning bonelessly to rest his head against the solid mass of Minho’s shoulder. As he poured the contents of another glass down his throat, his inhibitions dissolved. Kibum began to enjoy having an excuse to plaster himself to Minho; to press his weight against his side and watch the unwitting love of his life exchange meaningless jokes with Jinki across the table. Purest bliss, if only for a little while.

More drinks. More noise. The music picked up a new, seductive tempo out on the dance floor and within the space of about twenty minutes Kibum was (more than) just nicely tipsy. The room was becoming pleasantly fuzzed with sound and color and smiles, and through the fog of his bright intoxication Kibum was just gazing, gazing, gazing at Minho’s curving lips and shell-like ear. He felt the press of a long leg against his under the table and the steadying touch of a warm hand on his back when he reached clumsily for his drink.

_Minho._

Truth be told, Minho didn’t seem to either notice or mind how his friend was leaning into him. That is, until Kibum heard him ask: “‘Bum, you okay?”

That mellow voice reverberated in Kibum’s skull, deep and enticing. _“I’m not sure you ate enough at dinner,“_ it said.

Kibum smiled, “’Mmm. I’m fiiiine.”

“You seem more relaxed, at least. I think you needed this. You can thank me later for cajoling your argumentative ass into coming along.”

Key was affronted.

“I am NOT argumentative!” He shouted, then paused. “Ok I am—“ He prodded Minho in the arm accusingly, “But you’re no better!”

stumped for an insult as he took Minho’s in for a moment, “You an’ your..your.. _hotceps._ ” 

_Wait. WHAT. The FUCK. Shut up shut up!_

“Hot…ceps?”

“‘Ss’like biceps. But sexier.” 

_SHIT. Shut UP._

Kibum panicked and sat up clumsily. He was drunker than he thought, saying words far too close to secrets, his feelings all roiled around with the heady beat of the club and the firm heat of Minho right there next to him _being Minho_. This situation was beyond dangerous.

Minho just smiled lazily, apparently enjoying every minute of seeing Kibum squirm.

“So. You like my arms.” A statement. Not a question.

“No.”

“But you think they’re sexy.”

“No.”

“I think you just said you thought my arms were sexy.”

“You arms may be, like, objectively well built, Minho, but you yourself are annoying as fuck.”

Minho paused, thoughtful. “I see.”

“See? See what?!”

“Thanks for calling a part of my anatomy sexy, ‘Bummie. It means a lot. I know how picky you are when is comes to passing out compliments.”

“I DIDN’T CALL YOU SEXY!”

God, he hated this. He hated Minho. Jarringly, he tried to change the subject, brushing off his mistake by acting like it was nothing. That was what he should nave done from the start, of course. He even poured Minho a drink.

“Here, Min, have some soju.”

He watched Minho frown, confused by his sudden change in demeanor.

_I’m really screwing up. My only hope is to get him so drunk that he forgets I said anything._

“I’m glad we came,” Kibum said easily as he picked at an imaginary piece of lint on his sleeve, absolutely refusing to feel awkward.

Kibum felt Minho’s assessing regard like a brand on his skin. He reached for his Daiquiri, desperately trying to calm his breathing, and almost knocked over a half empty beer bottle in the process.

“Maybe you should slow down, ‘Bummie?” Minho offered.

Kibum glared, “Maybe you should drink faster, Choi. And mind your own damn business. Despite appearances, I’m *not* as lightweight as you might think. I’m okay. Just…I _’m fine._ ”

Minho glossed over his intensity and nudged Kibum with his elbow. “Well, that’s alright then. Look!”

He gestured to the others with his chin, who were playing some kind of drinking game involving napkins and straws. Taemin seemed distracted, though, by a group of attractive girls standing nearby who were throwing their table some hungry looks. Kibum followed Minho's line of sight blearily and realised it was indeed Taemin he'd been talking about. Kibum pulled a face.

Minho laughed at his expression. “I  don’t even need to guess where Tae’s drunken mind is taking him right now. He’s even worse than you.”

Kibum spat his drink out at what Minho seemed to be implying.

“You gotta be joking!? Please tell me you’re joking! Me? ME?” He spluttered.

Minho’s eyes were amused. “Hmm? Oh no, I just meant that he’s even worse at holding his liquor than you are.”

That was it for Kibum. He was done with putting his foot in his mouth, so he needed to go someplace where he wasn’t required to speak - someplace AWAY from Minho. He stood up abruptly.

“I’m going to dance now,” he announced, careful to annunciate properly, and squeezed himself out of the booth muttering something about finding Jjong (who had vacated his seat several minutes earlier in search of the dance floor).

Jinki and Minho exchanged the briefest of looks, “Okay, ‘Bum,” their leader intoned, “try and find Jjongie for us, yeah? We’ll come joinyou guys in a second!”

—

Kibum strutted towards the dance floor, pausing only to throw a dazzling smile over his shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.

Jinki turned to Minho. “Does Kibum seem…okay to you? You’d know.”

Minho shifted under Jinki’s regard, “I would? Well, I think he seems better now we’re out having some fun, that’s for sure. We’ve been so busy., hyung. Barely had time to sleep let alone talk. I’m sure he’s fine..and he knows I’m here for him when he decides he wants to talk.”

Jinki hummed. “Perhaps whatever’s bothering him is something he can’t talk about easily with you, Minho.”

Minho placed his bottled down hesitantly, eyeing Jinki carefully. “I guess we all have secrets. I just hope he knows that whatever it is, he can trust me.”

“I’m not sure he knows that at all.” Jinki muttered softly - so softly that Minho didn’t hear him.

But Minho’s attention had already wandered, wide eyes flickering to the spot where Kibum had merged seamlessly into the mass of dancing bodies.

—

Everything felt just about perfect. Jonghyun had been right. So very right. This - this feeling - was precisely what he’d needed. The thick, heavy atmosphere; the pulsing beat of music that possessed him from his soul to his fingertips; the pure release of letting his body move freely to the thrum of the bass. Kibum weaved happily through the crowd, his angst from earlier in the evening forgotten. So many people! So many shining faces! Some seemed to look at him as if they knew him; others tried to dance with him. But he wasn’t there to dance with them, he was there to find—

“‘Bummie! Over here!”

—Jonghyun! That was definitely Jonghyun’s voice calling him from the huge mirrored bar, close but faint in the electric atmosphere. Kibum moved to join him where he was perched on a metal barstool, nursing a vodka tonic, a pint of what looked like water right beside it. Jonghyun’s brow had a sheen to it, as if he’d only just sat down himself.

“Having fun? ooh someone’s affectionate tonight!” Jjong’s laugh pierced the din as Kibum wrapped both his arms around his neck in greeting.

Kibum collapsed onto the stool next to Jjong, head in his hands, “Yes and No. Yes, the last fifteen minutes have been great. No, I’m so fucking screwed in general terms, Jjongie, you have no idea.”

Jonghyun tilted his head. “May I suggest you’re feeling this way precisely because you’re _not_ getting screwed?”

“What the-? Jjong, I—“

“When are you going to talk to him, Kibum?” Jjong interrupted firmly.

“Who?”

“Minho.”

“Wha—“

“Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t suit you.”

Kibum was flabbergasted. Okay, sure, he was almost as close (if not closer) to Jonghyun as he was to Minho, but he’d worked his ass off for years to ensure that his obsession with Minho never got int he way of work. He wasn’t going to be the one who broke SHINee because he was selfish and horny, no fucking way.

Jonghyun pushed the water over the marble surface of the bar. “Here drink this, you look like you need it.”

Kibum grasped the glass and took icy sips, stalling.

“Soooo, talk to me, ‘Bum,” Jjong traced patterns into the condensation forming on his glass, “When exactly were you planning on telling Minho that you’re madly in love with him and want him to throw you down and take you in every way imaginable?”

Kibum almost choked on his water before slamming it on the bar. Aside from the revelation of Jonghyun knowing, Kibum was doubly shocked by the accuracy of his lewd description.

“How the fuck did you know, Jjong?” Key’s voice was granular with emotion.

“Oh please, It’s so obvious. Well…to me, anyway. I had to bring Jinki up to speed a few months ago when you started to lose the plot during View promos,” Kibum looked aghast at this, but Jonghyun ploughed on, “Don’t worry, Taemin is as clueless as ever, of course. Look,” Jjong’s tone gentled and he scooted closer to his friend, “I know what you’re going to say: that you tried to hide it for the good of the group. That you don’t want to be selfish. That you don’t believe he’d return your feelings,”

He patted Kibum’s back in time with his words, “And you’d have been right to do that if this were just a passing feeling. But it’s not. It’s more than that. Much more, right? So in the end, the last thing I want is to watch one of my best friends in this world slowly pine away. And the only thing you need to worry about now is how you’re going to tell him, ‘Bummie.”

As Kibum listened to Jonghyun’s monologue tears sprung up in his eyes,overflowing afresh with each truth his friend hammered home. He sniffed and tied to wipe the moisture off his cheek with his sleeve. Jonghyun dabbed at his face with a napkin.

“I’m scared, hyung,” He whispered.

Jonghyun just pulled him into a tight embrace. “I know. But maybe you don’t need to be. Ever thought about that?”

“How— what the hell are you even saying?! That you think Minho will turn full gay the moment I confess to him like some cliché in a drama? Please. And how long even have you known, anyway? That I, I—“

“—That you’re head over heels for our Flaming Pain-in-the-Backside Minho?” Jjong finished. “A while. I was waiting for you to mention it. Or do something. Anything!” He giggled, “Let’s just say that watching you quietly lust after Minho partly inspired _Crazy_ …”

Kibum was appalled. “You’ve got to be joking?! [Crazy was about.. _that_?](https://youtu.be/7chnSxtPfIo?t=130)”

Jonghyun sighed, “I draw my inspiration where I can.”

“You asshole!”

“What? I changed Minho into a girl for the song, so I don’t see what the problem is. Hey, where are Min, Tae and Jinki-hyung, anyways?”

Key shrugged, caught somewhere between relief, fear and anger.

_Fuck Minho._

There was no way he could confess. No way. And if he was going to pine unrequitedly for him ’til his dying day (and it was certainly beginning to look this way) then he’d be damned if he wouldn’t at least try to have some fun in spite of that harsh reality.

Just for tonight, he would just forget. He’d be free.

“Kibummie? Jonghyun-hyung?”

As if summoned by Key’s angst alone, Minho appeared in his field of view looking like a goddamn god of the night. Or something. Whatever, he looked like perfection. Kibum watched through narrowing eyes as a very pretty girl tried to work her presence into Minho’s personal space. Minho didn’t even blink, his approach unfazed.

But There was an unusual intensity in his glance, alongside his obvious concern.

“‘Kibum are you ok?” Minho inserted his body between the two of them propping up the bar and flung an arm around Jjong’s shoulders. Kibum prayed that no trace of his tears remained to betray his earlier outburst.

“Maybe we should get you some water,” Minho said as he looked him over appraisingly. He turned to Jjong, “Did he drink any water?”

“Of course. He’s okay. Just a bit…stressed out. You know how it is with work sometimes.”

Kibum groaned. “For fuck’s sake, Min! I’m fine. And yes, I’m a bit drunk. But I’m here because YOU wanted me to be here! So excuse me for actually doing what all of you were so desperate for me to do! Go away, you’re ruining my me-time!”

Minho smirked, gesturing fake deafness. “What? Sorry it’s just so loud!”

Jonghyun shoved Minho hard in the side. “Ya! Stop!”

“That so?” Kibum stood up, the fire in his eyes, and stepped closer. “You, Choi fucking Minho, are ruining. My. Night.” he ground his teeth together, all his irritation at how much he’d suffered because of this man spilling over into his words, “Stop turning up when I’m trying to forget you even exist!”

Oh, Minho had heard. His expression shifted in a moment. Gone was his playful concern, replaced by something altogether different - something glittering, sharp and dark. He stooped imposingly to mutter words against Kibum’s jaw. Kibum held his breath. 

The words were soft but deep. “You want to forget me, Kibum?”

Y _es! Hell yes!_

_I wish I could._

_You drive me crazy._

_I think about you every moment._

_It’s like a slow death not being able to tell you how I feel, because I know you’d never feel the same way about me._

The thoughts all crossed his mind in a flurry of harsh emotion, but he didn’t answer Minho’s question. Instead, eyes blazing indignantly, he backed off...back into a crowd of limbs and pretty faces that surged with fresh energy when the hook of a new beat pulsed over the floor...and began to dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from “Crazy” lyrics by Jonghyun


End file.
